


miss the days

by everybodyknowseverybodydies



Series: Tumblr drabbles [4]
Category: E.R.
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Thanksgiving, a case of the sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybodyknowseverybodydies/pseuds/everybodyknowseverybodydies
Summary: This was how it should have gone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "Greeneday, a Thanksgiving that never was"

This was how it should have gone:

Ella, ten years old, chattering on and on about fourth grade life, ready to try out for the elementary school dance team and right on the edge of her belief in Santa Claus. Elizabeth, streaks of silver spiralling away from her temples and curls pulled back, still unable to make a pumpkin pie that looked as good as it should. Mark, completely bald and completely unaffected, glasses sitting lower on his nose every moment as he fiddled with the nose-pieces to try to fix them and only made them worse instead, smiling that soft smile of his. They would start out sitting at the table, but Ella would want to turn the television on, or Rachel would come by, or the phone would ring, and they would end up sitting close together on the couch while Elizabeth scolded Mark for getting cranberry sauce on the cushions. They would be laughing and they would be whole.

That was, of course, not how it went, not ever.

Ella thought a lot about the things that made her mother sad. There weren’t very many of them anymore, and she was never sad in the way Ella was, sad enough to cry and hide under the covers until the cat came to see what the fuss was. Mama didn’t do that. Ella thought maybe it was a grownup thing, and she’d learn how to be pretty-sad like her when she got older, how to do the sad distant smile and the faraway stare and the “No, no, love, I was just thinking,” only she didn’t think she could sound nearly the same as Mama did.

No, the things that made her sad still were little things, things Ella had come to associate with _Mark_ and _Daddy_ and _Dr. Greene_ , who were probably all the same person and really, she did remember him, a little bit, she thought. At least, she knew the smell of shaving cream, and she remembered big gentle hands on her back and a soft voice telling her _That’s the ocean, Ella, isn’t it pretty? Well, not as pretty as you and your mom and your sister._ But she was almost sure that the only reason she knew his face and his smile were the pictures.

The pictures made Mama sad, but only when she stopped and stared and picked them up, and sometimes she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, and Ella always wanted to hug her and tell her something to make her stop looking so wrong. Hawaii made Mama sad; Rachel had come over a few times recently to ask about going back, but Mama didn’t want to go, and she had been quiet for hours after Rachel left each time. And Thanksgiving made Mama sad, which was strange, Ella thought, since it was supposed to be a happy time.

But maybe it made her sad because it was supposed to be a happy time. Ella tried to imagine how different things would be if Daddy was here. She thought maybe she wouldn’t have to help so much in the kitchen - it was fun, especially the pies, and even though they always looked ugly and tasted sort of burnt, throwing flour and making a mess and laughing with Mama was the most fun part of helping in the kitchen. But it was still _hours_ and _hours_.

Mama seemed to understand that Ella got fidgety and, while things were in the oven, would sit down with her and tell her silly stories, grinning. Ella thought Daddy would probably be better at telling the stories, or at least she hoped so, because Mama always broke off giggling before she got to the funny parts and then Ella had to pull at her sleeve impatiently until she could talk again and tell her what was so funny, and then sometimes it wasn’t even that funny.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Ella looked up from poking at her turkey, blinking her thoughts away. Mama was sitting across the table with that sort of sweet-sad worry creasing her brow. “You,” Ella said. “And Daddy.”

Mama looked down, and Ella thought maybe she was going to go silent again, but instead she broke into a smile and pushed the clouds from her eyes and leaned across the table, whispering conspiratorially, “Have I ever told you about my very first Thanksgiving? Daddy was there.”

She hadn’t, so Ella sat up a little straighter, and she listened.


End file.
